


The Dreamcatcher

by Akisame8



Series: Horizons [16]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akisame8/pseuds/Akisame8
Summary: On Gauda Prime, Deva has devised a computer program to find allies for the Resistance—though Blake remains skeptical.Deva's web, however, has attracted other spiders.





	The Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a two-part story on the [Horizon site](http://www.blakes7online.com/forum/viewthread.php?thread_id=2460&pid=121329#post_121329), using the word-prompt "web," and I've expanded it a bit since then.The third part was recently added using "water" as an additional prompt.

  
    "I _do_ have ways of detecting who is safe to let through and who is hostile," Deva insisted to Blake, offended.  
  
    The bounty hunter was skeptical. "How? By magic?" He tried to lift an eyebrow but his scar limited that wry expression.  
  
    "No— with my program," snapped Deva. "If you'll allow me to explain. There's a reason why people call me Deva, after all. You already know how fond I am of Old Calendar mythology—old legends, stories, even children's fairy tales." He glanced briefly to the side with a warm, nostalgic smile. "My favorite has always been 'The Tale of the Seven Lost Sailors Who Went in Search for the Golden—' "  
  
    "Yes, yes," Blake said with a dismissive roll of his eyes. "We all know you're a—what's the word I'm looking for? _Boffin._ Nerd. I don't have much time for fairy tales, Deva."  
  
    "I believe the Old Calendar term was 'geek'. Anyway, this is how my security program works: I based its principle on a story." He beamed, going into storyteller mode: "There once was a symbolic Old Terran item that was called a 'dreamcatcher'. In some cultures, spiders were considered benevolent. A 'dreamcatcher' was a hoop decorated to look like a spider's web and it was hung primarily over sleeping children's beds at night in the belief that it would protect them."  
  
    Blake sighed. "A lovely tradition, I'm sure, but does it also keep out Federation spies?"  
  
    Deva cleared his throat, annoyed at having his narration hurried. "The dreamcatcher was believed to ensnare nightmares in its web while letting  'good' dreams pass safely through. The nightmares trapped within the web were then 'burnt up in the light of day'." The base's chief allowed himself a somewhat smug smile. "I designed my program with the same principles in mind: the 'web' I've created filters out the 'nightmares' while allowing those sympathetic to the Rebellion—or those seeking sanctuary—to pass safely through it. But not without first deciphering a codeword to make certain of their intentions."  
  
    "Which is?"  
  
    "An encrypted version of your name, of course." Before Blake could retort, Deva quickly said, "Only as a _symbolic_ reference. I assure you, no one knows you're here. And all the others who couldn't pass this firewall are 'burnt up in the light of day'." He chuckled but saw Blake's scowl and added,  "Which means that I remotely destroyed their interfaces. _Bzzzzt._ Gone. Rendered useless." He waved his hand as if dispelling smoke and then ran his fingers through his floppy ginger fringe. "In fact, I've finally gotten an actual 'potential' today. That's why I summoned you."  
  
    "A potential?" Blake asked. "Someone correctly deciphered the codeword?" He looked hopeful and suspicious at once. Deva could almost read the desperate thoughts in Blake's eyes: _Please let it be lost friends found. Please._  
  
    He cleared his throat.  
  
    "Yes. Someone cracked the Dreamcatcher! Their computer successfully passed through the firewall, into the 'safe place'  which I've named 'Gossamer.' If they've come this far already and managed to successfully reach Gossamer, we can offer them assistance. Sanctuary, even. Well, as much as it's possible on Gauda Prime." He gazed into space. "Rather a nice name, 'Gossamer', don't you think? Sticky and non-threatening. Sort of aesthetic and—"  
  
    Blake sternly cut him off. "Is this the only 'potential' to have decoded my name and actually gotten into your Gossamer?"  
  
    Deva nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes."  
  
    "What do we know about this 'potential'?"  
  
    Deva hesitated and bit his lip. "That they're very clever?"  
  
    Blake sighed. "Following the principles of your Dreamcatcher legend, what are the chances of a nightmare getting through?" he demanded.  
  
    Deva frowned. "Ah."  
  
    "Right." Blake straightened the gun in his belt and left the room to seek out what had escaped the Dreamcatcher.  
  
    The bounty hunter strode away before Deva could tell him to be careful, to not do anything stupid, to stop pretending to be someone that he was not.  
  
    " 'Will you walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,' " Deva murmured at his friend's retreating back and hoped fervently that Blake would not be the doomed fly of the Old Calendar poem.  
  
    He was interrupted from his musing by another signal appearing on the monitor. He squinted—then his eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Really? Gossamer _again?"_ Ecstatic by the possibility of a new "potential", his breathing quickened.  
  
    Not only was it indeed another pilgrim into the realm of Gossamer, but it appeared to be a distress call, of all things. Excited and alarmed at once that the Dreamcatcher had been breached twice in one day, he investigated.  
  
    Deva's fingers flew over his keyboard. "The ocean?" he muttered. "I'll need a flyer for that. Not that I'm a very good pilot, but I'll muddle through it. Who knew I would be setting myself up for rescue missions?" He scratched at his forehead, flopping his rusty fringe out of his eyes once more.  "I also need to stop talking to myself."  
  
***  
  
    Avon gave Orac a thoughtful stare. "So that's it, then. _He's_ there."  
  
     _++ It was quite a simple program to decode. Quite primitive and hardly a challenge to my superior intellect. It has the peculiar designation of 'Gossamer.' ++_  
  
     _++Pardon my interruption, but If I could humbly interrupt, Master...++,_ interjected the more ingratiating mechanical voice from the far corner of the _Scorpio._  
  
     _++You most certainly may not!++_ Orac snapped. _++Your superior was in the process of speaking. You are a lowly creation and this continued interruption is intolerable!++_  
  
     _++I wholly agree that I am inferior, but I felt the need to inform the Master—++_  
  
     _++WHY are you still SPEAKING?++_  
  
    Avon sighed. "Slave, be silent." He addressed the smaller computer again. "I would very much like to meet the designer of this program. However, I am certain I could have disentangled myself from this 'spiderweb' even without your help, Orac." He looked off to the _Scorpio's_ viewscreen at the advancing stars. "I predict that Gauda Prime will nevertheless be... sticky."  
  
***  
  
    The escape pod bobbed on the waves as the woman climbed out to have a look at her predicament. Just as she had thought: there was an undulating horizon of water as far as the eye could see. The lifepod had some emergency provisions—vacuum-packaged food, bottled water— but these would not last long. It also had the most basic of computers and she had sent a distress call by decoding a very familiar name.  
  
    "And as ever, I will wait for you, Blake," said Jenna Stannis. She sat down on the edge of the lifepod as it shifted atop the rolling hills of ocean. She was not particularly optimistic.  "I really miss you too, Zen," she sighed.  
  
    Her lips were cracked with salt. She swigged from the last of her water. There had to be a water purification kit in the capsule somewhere.  
  
    Something bright was flying toward her, out of the sun. She squinted; the sun was eclipsed by a small flyer which hovered noisily over her lifepod, rippling the water and tangling her hair. Friend or foe? Did it even matter at this point?  
  
    The husky but polite masculine voice that addressed her was tinny and amplified, as if a sporting event was being announced. "Excuse me," it said from high above her pod-turned-boat, "but am I correct in in identifying you as one Jenna Stannis?"  
  
    "There is only one and she's me. Who should I identify you as? Are you 'The Dreamcatcher'?"  
  
    A head poked through the open flyer's window; the pilot's hair looked like it was on fire as it was backlit from the sinking sun. Down rolled a rescue ladder.  
  
    "That's the program you cracked," he told her after he had pulled her aboard. "My name is Deva."  
  
    "Do I need to ask you why you're covered in blood?"  
  
    "Ah." Deva looked stricken. "Many flies got caught in a web today and I fear it was all my fault. A nightmare got through and his name was Avon."  
  



End file.
